


00Q Drabble Collection

by gaysinspace



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Caring, Fluff, James Bond is a whiny baby, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8113027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysinspace/pseuds/gaysinspace
Summary: A collection of short 00Q drabbles from prompts sent to my tumblr.
If you have any prompts, send them in an ask to doubleohqs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> James having a cold and being a complete baby about it forcing Q to take the day off and nurse him back to health

It all started after a particularly nasty encounter in Russia, where Bond had been forced to stay in the wilderness without supplies for two days after a surprise attack on his safe house had left him with barely any supplies. Nobody doubted his survival skills for a second, he knew that, but a couple more jackets would’ve definitely been nice in the almost constant below zero temperatures. 

It wasn’t the mission itself that bothered him, it was what happened after.

Following a discussion with a particularly pissed off Quartermaster on how “destroying my equipment is totally unacceptable, Bond, even in the wilderness”, he started feeling something he hadn’t felt in years. The vaguely familiar tickling in his nose, a dry feeling in his throat. 

Then a sneeze. 

Then another. 

The entirety of Q branch froze when it happened, staring at Bond with widened eyes. To be fair, a good 75% of Q branch swore he was a government developed robot or something along those lines. There was even a poll making the rounds on whether he was an enhanced alien.

After clearing his throat and composing himself, he made his way out of Q branch quickly, cursing Russian winters as he walked towards M’s office to be briefed. Of course, this happened to be the one time of day where Eve was sitting at her desk rather than running errands. 

It would’ve gone well, if it wasn’t for the way Moneypenny started laughing when she saw a red-nosed and very pissed off Bond walking into the waiting area. 

"Morning, Ms. Moneypenny" Bond managed to say, although his words were coated with a distinct twangy sound. He made a noticeable effort to look everywhere around the room that wasn't at Eve.

Of course, this didn't work.

“Rough time in Russia, then?” she noted, managing to tone down her laughs. “You look like Rudolph the red nosed reindeer had a nasty encounter with a particularly ripe tomato”. As much as he loved Eve, he’d truly love her more if she had tissues on her desk and didn’t laugh at his misfortune. 

A 00 agent doesn’t get sick, a 00 agent backflips over sickness and gives it a mean right hook to the jaw. A 00 agent punches sickness in the face and says “Not today”. 

Unfortunately, you can’t solve everything by punching things.

But if he thought his day was already bad, it was just about to get worse.   
A moping double-00 agent was one thing, but coming home to a moping, red-nosed MI6 agent in the fluffiest jumper Q had ever laid eyes on was the most endearing and hilarious thing he’d seen yet. 

Specially when said agent was currently wrestling with the cat for a piece of chicken he intended to use for what was supposed to be soup. 

“This isn’t for you” Bond argued with the cat, a habit which Q had become used to after the first time he caught Bond talking to Fibonacci about how cats shouldn’t sleep on top of Armani suits. 

“What are you doing?” he managed to ask, fixing his glasses as he stared at a pile of goo and water which made an aggressive attempt to pass as soup.

“I’m sick and you’ve been gone all day. Honestly, what kind of treatment is this after being left in the Russian wilderness all alone?” Bond sighed with what looked to be awfully similar to a pout. He gave the chicken another gentle tug, trying to free it from Fibonaccis sharp nails.

“What? Does Mr. Bond expect his doting Quartermaster to feed him soup while he lays in bed and complains over how unfair life is to him?” Q shot back as he set his keys on the table, dropping his work bag on the couch.

It was meant to be a biting comment, but the raised eyebrow he received from James spoke to the opposite.

“Oh my lord, you actually expect that don't you” Q couldn’t help the amusement filtering into his voice, raising an eyebrow at the bleary-eyed agent.

“I spend all my life fighting for Queen and country, Q, the least I expect is a little love when I’m on my deathbed” Bond muttered with a hint of indignation as he stirred the wannabe soup.

“You’re not on your deathbed, you absolute drama queen. Although if you keep attempting to cook whatever that is we might both end up in a coffin when you set the flat on fire” Q moved in to take the casserole off the stove, turning off the flame.

“See? This is why you should take care of me. I’m sick and dying and deserve some warmth and kindness after the cruel winter of suffering I went through”

“If Moneypenny saw you right now, you would never hear the end of it” Q noted, making a mental reminder to take a photo of James sleeping later to send to Eve. That would inspire a whole new round of rumours in Q branch for sure.

“Then I guess it’s lucky I’m with you and not with her” Bond raised in eyebrow in the usual seductive manner, but with the massive jumper on his body and how his nose was currently scrunching up in the attempt to fend off a sneeze, it was more on the adorable side of the spectrum. Q just sighed fondly and pointed at Bond’s chest.

“Alright, fine. You go lay in bed, oh Great Uncle James. I assume you’ll be taking the day off tomorrow?”

“I’d say I deserve it after risking my life on a daily basis for what has now been a total of over ten years, with little to no recognition for all of the work and sacrifices I've -” Bond began to rant on his way to the bedroom, dragging his socked feet across the floor of the flat on his way to bed.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll make you some soup for tonight and tomorrow, then?”

Bond was halfway down the hall when Q said this, and the look of absolute horror on his face when he turned to look at Q would’ve put any horror movie actor to shame.

“You mean you’re not staying tomorrow? But Q, I’m dying. These are my last hours and you’re leaving me behind to work on some gadgets for agents that aren’t me, and they're not as important as I am anyway they don't need that much gear just send them off with a paper clip and they'd be fine. You’re leaving me with the cats who will just bully me because your cats are evil, Q, they really are and they watch me while I sleep and honestly I feel like they’re just waiting until I die so they can eat me which is horrible because my face is a valuable asset and it shouldn’t be damaged so all logic points to you staying at home to take care of me–”

“I can’t believe MI6′s greatest agent is an actual baby” Q interrupted, before Bond could go any further with his rambling.

“I’m not a baby, Q! I’m just taking in all the possible outcomes of your decision to leave me alone”

“Sure, it’s all completely logical” Q said between laughter, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I’ll take the day off. But if you say one more thing about my cats being evil then I’ll make sure your package for the next mission holds nothing more than a paperclip and chicken soup, you big baby. Schedule yourself a medical eval before you even approach another mission"

James furrowed his brow and scrunched his nose in a way which should honestly be illegal in at least seven different countries, staring at Q until realisation dawned on him.

"I'll schedule your medical eval too, you actual child. Now go to bed before I have an actual reason to put you on your deathbed"

James had learned many things over his years as a spy, most of which were abilities he would never need in his civilian life. But the ability to persuade an engineering genius to stay home and take care of his sick ass, well, that was one he was more than happy to put to use when the opportunity arose. Q didn't mind it in the least.

And if a particular photo of one James Bond snoozing with three cats on his body at once, while wearing a fluffy sweater, somehow made it into Q branch. Well, James Bond would never have to know.


End file.
